The Greeks Had Indoor Plumbing
by Psycho Goddess
Summary: “Man, I bet Grissom didn’t even like Jell-o.” (Response to the weekly Unbound Challenge.)


**Title**: The Greeks Had Indoor Plumbing

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**Summary**: "Man, I bet Grissom didn't even like Jell-o." (Response to the weekly Unbound Challenge.)

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**Author's Notes:** Well, I love challenges. And since I figured everybody needs a good death fic to their name, my twisted/brilliant mind created this monstrosity. Oh well, I followed the challenge rules. 

**Disclaimer**: Nope, I'm still just lil' old me. And that's alright.

~... .....-*-... .....~

"Why is there Jell-o here?" Greg asked. It was an inane question given the circumstances, but he wanted to know. If he didn't ask, it would bother him. Nag him. Cause him hours of lost sleep.

"I know," agreed an unusually reserved Nick, surveying the room. "It doesn't make sense. Man, I bet Grissom didn't even like Jell-o."

"Cherry," spoke up a voice behind them. They stared at Sara incredulously, and she gave a small smile. "He absolutely loved cherry Jell-o. But this is lime."

Irritation evident in her tone, she snatched the bowl from its spot on the table and dumped it into the garbage before wandering off again.

"She's not taking it well, is she?"

"She was _there_, Greg."

Nick didn't feel it necessary to go any further into the details. He had been there too, initially at least. He had knocked over his print powder and had gone out to get another. Sara had offered him hers, but he declined.

Then Catherine had called, to ask him if he had filed the Crichton report yet. Reception absolutely sucked where they were, and it took him longer than it should have to understand her. By the time he had hung up, the fatal shot had already been fired.

~*~

            Once the adrenaline had worn off he wondered where his police training had fled; rushing into an area with shots fired… it was in the big bad handbook of no-no's. But Nick tore into the house with a speed he forgot he possessed.

            Sara's eyes were opened widely, but he could tell she wasn't seeing the scene. There was blood on her, and he checked her for injury. There was none though, and he was forced to take a better look at the living room they had entered. Fresh blood mingled with old…. Sara's gun had fallen to the floor….

            And Grissom was dead.

            Had Nick not recognized his boss's clothing, he wouldn't have been able to identify him. His face had been blown apart with the force of the bullet.

"Where the hell is Cavaliere?" Nick burst out.

            "He went to pick up a suspect…"

            Sara didn't sound too sure of herself, and Nick realized the implications of the scene. Sara and Grissom were working together when he left… and that meant she had seen everything.

            He used a tone that was calm and soothing as he walked towards her. He went to touch her shoulder, but she practically collapsed against him. Hugging her for a minute before resuming his talk, he assessed the situation. 

            "Sara, honey-"

            "Don't call me that!" she screamed, shoving him away. Panic filled her eyes and she ran out of the room.

~*~

Nick had found her in the front lawn, sitting a few feet away from the contents of her stomach.

"Brass is on his way."

"Okay," she said, not taking her eyes off the desert horizon. 

In the early morning light Nick saw an unnatural pallor to his friend. She wasn't crying, and despite her shock seemed aware of the surroundings. 

"I… I had my gun on him," she stopped, restarted at the beginning. "He climbed in through the open window. Grissom didn't hear him at first, not until he was grabbed. I drew my gun, but…." 

Sara trailed off. Nick was about to tell her he didn't need to know when she gathered her courage and continued, self-loathing unmistakably tainting her words. 

"I had a clear shot, and I couldn't pull the trigger. He knew this, seemed to enjoy it. And he _grinned_ at me when he pulled his trigger. It was over in a few seconds, but everything had this sluggishness to it, like watching a movie in slow motion. His knees gave out, the right a split second before his left. And the blood flew at me…. Well, you know what it looks like."

She was quiet again, and when Nick looked over he saw a sight he could have went his entire life without seeing. 

Sara was smiling.

~*~

The cemetery was luscious and green, but the soil on his grave was still freshly turned. Sara sank beside it, tears finally falling.

"Hey Griss. Everyone's at Catherine's place, a gathering in the memory of the worst political supervisor the crime lab ever had."

She laughed at her own joke.

"People are good. You know Catherine, Little Miss Take Charge. She practically bullied the lab into this party thing. Warrick begged off… he misses you. And Nicky just keeps watching me like I'm about to crack. The lab really isn't the same without you… but any psychologist could have told us that."

Falling silent, Sara memorized her surroundings. The grass wasn't real, but to her hand it felt close. Somewhere nearby a bird sang a solo. The hot Nevada sun gave a sense of surrealism to the scene.

"I still can't believe the last thing you said to me was 'The Greeks had indoor plumbing.'" She barked a laugh. "You were right though. Big surprise."

Silent again, she could hear the passing motorists. A sudden memory filled her mind, a game her brother had taught her years earlier. You had to hold your breath as you drove past a graveyard. She wondered if kids still played that game.

"I think we both know I'm not coming back," she told his tombstone. "So… goodbye, I suppose. Thanks for the memories."

Sara still couldn't bring herself to say the other thing, not even here with the nobody to overhear and no way he could deny her. Having enough of this sentimental bullshit, she stood to leave.

She had parked her car on the other side of the roadway, and the gravel crunched beneath her feet. She checked the backseat before climbing in to make sure her suitcase was there. It was, and she took one last lingering look before climbing behind the wheel. Not wanting physical proof she had been there, she kicked the gravel from her shoe.

…………………………………………

Constructive criticism most welcome.


End file.
